beach.
It's May, and where I am, it's been in the 50s (degrees Fahrenheit, or 10-15 for anyone preferring degrees Celsius). While that was acceptable weather last month, I should by all rights be wearing short sleeves right now. But no, I've had to drag out sweaters again, and wear a sweatshirt to the barn.
I've also been reading some really good forensic mystery novels (by Kathy Reichs, and the basis for the TV series Bones -- which I have not seen yet, but probably will watch this summer), which take place in Quebec and North Carolina. Now, I've not been to Quebec yet, but I have been to North Carolina. It was a loooong time ago, though, and it rained for most of our stay (my memories are having ice-cube melting races, my aunt buying me a book about sharks, lots of puzzles, and an 'upside-down' house with the living room on the top floor... not too many memories relating to beaches or the outdoors!).
These two factors have made me desperately want to go to the beach. Usually, I'm more of a city kind of girl, who would prefer being in Europe to being on her own continent. Although I love nature and have a great appreciation for it, I'd generally rather soak up the atmosphere at a castle or wander around a museum than go on a hike (although if the hike culminates in a castle, well, take me to it!). The slow pace of the southern part of the country doesn't always combine well with my quick, oft-impatient northern ways.
But oh my God take me to a beach right now. I want to lay out on a towel in my bikini, slather on the sunscreen (I'm pale and I sunburn... and when it peels, I'm white again), pull out a good book and some sunglasses, and settle in. I want to wander up and down, looking for seashells and dipping my toes in the surf. I want to climb the lighthouses for the awesome view. I want the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt air that just begs you to roll the car windows down and turn up the music just until you can stop the car and leap out to run down to the surf. I want to build sandcastles that get washed away at high tide. It's been a while since I last enjoyed the proper beach experience, and it's about time it came again.
I've also been reading some really good forensic mystery novels (by Kathy Reichs, and the basis for the TV series Bones -- which I have not seen yet, but probably will watch this summer), which take place in Quebec and North Carolina. Now, I've not been to Quebec yet, but I have been to North Carolina. It was a loooong time ago, though, and it rained for most of our stay (my memories are having ice-cube melting races, my aunt buying me a book about sharks, lots of puzzles, and an 'upside-down' house with the living room on the top floor... not too many memories relating to beaches or the outdoors!).
These two factors have made me desperately want to go to the beach. Usually, I'm more of a city kind of girl, who would prefer being in Europe to being on her own continent. Although I love nature and have a great appreciation for it, I'd generally rather soak up the atmosphere at a castle or wander around a museum than go on a hike (although if the hike culminates in a castle, well, take me to it!). The slow pace of the southern part of the country doesn't always combine well with my quick, oft-impatient northern ways.
But oh my God take me to a beach right now. I want to lay out on a towel in my bikini, slather on the sunscreen (I'm pale and I sunburn... and when it peels, I'm white again), pull out a good book and some sunglasses, and settle in. I want to wander up and down, looking for seashells and dipping my toes in the surf. I want to climb the lighthouses for the awesome view. I want the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt air that just begs you to roll the car windows down and turn up the music just until you can stop the car and leap out to run down to the surf. I want to build sandcastles that get washed away at high tide. It's been a while since I last enjoyed the proper beach experience, and it's about time it came again.